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If you only knew about this wicked roller coaster ride that happens inside of my head always going at full speed....

Oh wait, you do....

If you read any of my poetry....
What makes a poet ?
That was my thought
I mulled it over and
Came up with these oughts :

Late nights with
coffee , tea or beer
Perhaps harder stuff
Whiskey , smoke or gin clear

And the struggles and pain
as the birth is exclaimed
Blood , sweat and tears
Falling as hard as ice on rain

Confessionals made
As black on white page
Love , death , fears
Even extreme rage

One who struggles
with the a's and the's
Should one even use
The apostrophe

One who's words
Gel by the witching hour
Words full of promise  
Warnings so dour

But perhaps greatest of all
Before even the start
One must have
a true poet's heart
Why can't I get you out of my head?
It's been mere hours since I've seen you, and yet I miss you.
I turned 16 the other day.

There's nothing much different,

yet here I am,

a year older, a year closer to death...

a year closer to living the life that I  want.

A year closer to making the change for the better.

A year closer to getting better.
Perhaps I will, perhaps I won't.
Is it living?

Or is it just dying slowly?
  Apr 2019 Ephemeral Oblivion
sarah
tell me you're done
but say it to me softly
don't wanna feel the rush
of being broken-hearted

if i ever stop
to think and reflect
i'll never catch up
back to where i should be
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